Jack Frost
by irisunohimitsu
Summary: Lost on Midgard as a baby, Loki is adopted by a mortal, Leif, who dies before he can pass on the secret of Loki's past. Alone in a cruel world, Loki quickly learns to be equally cruel in order to ensure his survival. Known as Jack Frost, he lies and kills in the service of liars and killers, until he forms an alliance as tenuous as the threads holding what is left of his morality.
1. 1 - Growth and Stasis

Hello! I am also posting this story on AO3 under the same username, and have decided to cross post it here. It is nearly finished on AO3, so feel free to head over there and check it out.

Reviews would be gratefully received!

* * *

Loki was found on the day of a great storm, as had not been seen in living memory. The snow bit through the air, great drifts of it piling up to trap people in the homes they would never dare to leave. They tucked themselves away, warming the huts as best as they could, fighting a desperate battle against the freezing wind that forced its way through the smallest crack to threaten the weak fires made with thin, damp twigs – the last left after the vicious winter.

Suddenly, the storm was gone. There was no gradual lessening of the gale, no slow retreat of clouds back to the horizon as the snowfall tapered slowly to a stop. It was just, gone. One second the people feared for their lives as gusts blew harder than ever and snow piled up, already threatening to cave the roof in with the weight of it, but showing no sign of letting up. The next, it was calm, the snow settled on the ground and no more fell, the clouds disappeared like dust into the wind and the sun shone through the icy windows.

Leif was one of the first to poke his head out. It was desperation that drove him, and the pain of loss. His young wife had given birth in the hut, to a child born already cold as the night air around them. Her own skin grew clammy shortly after, still bleeding sluggishly in the aftermath of her labour, with no way to stop it and the doctor inaccessible. Leif went out in search of firewood to keep her warm through her fever. There was a stand of fir trees about 2 hours from the village – perhaps three today, since he had to navigate the deep drifts of snow and watch carefully for hidden crevasses.

He pushed determinedly through the snow, snowshoes strapped to his feet still dragging in the deep powder as he used a long pole to test each drift before he dared step out over it. By the time he reached the stand of trees, his thighs were burning with the effort and his breaths came short and sharp, clouds of mist puffing from his mouth and dissipating into the frosted air. He was leant against a tree catching his breath whilst he unfastened the axe and knife he had carried with him when he spotted it.

A bundle of blankets hung from a tree branch, half coated with snowfall but safe from the deep drifts around the roots. Leif's heart near broke when he saw it. A second babe fallen victim to the cold, hanging still and silent in the cold. He moved to take it down, intending to bury the body somehow, not able to stand the thought of leaving it under the snow for someone to find when it finally melted come summer.

Where were its parents? He wondered. Likely lost somewhere, likely two more bodies to be found in a few months' time. As his hands reached out to take the bundle down, it moved. He froze, still as the dark trees around him. Hands shaking he took the bundle in his arms, stunned beyond words by the squirming he felt under his palms. It was alive, and oh how his heart ached that this child should live through frozen hell whilst his own never even had the chance to draw breath.

Pulling the blankets aside he nearly dropped the bundle then and there, nearly ran home to scream of monsters and be known as mad throughout the village. The creature, whilst undoubtedly an infant, was blue. The dark grey-blue of the storm clouds that had set upon their village, lines and strange marking trailing across its skin like art. And the eyes that peered sleepily up at him were a bright, uncompromising red. The eyes of a demon. Leif reached a trembling finger out to stroke the cold skin of the baby's cheek, and then nearly dropped it a second time as colour bloomed out from his touch, spreading quickly across the child's face until he was staring at what appeared to be a human child. Red eyes had changed to a sparkling blue-green. The hair remained the same, but the downy black curls that had blended into the dark blue skin now stood out starkly against pale skin.

Leif tucked the child numbly into his jacket and quickly set about gathering wood. Once he had a sizeable bundle he hefted it onto his back and began the long trek home.

His bundle was heavy enough that his snowshoes sank into the snow with every step he took. He was carrying far more wood than he usually would, enough to keep the fire burning near constantly to ensure the warmth of his wife, and of the child. Yes, it was some sort of shapeshifting demon creature, but it was an infant and he could not suffer another child to die when he could save it.

His coat shifted a little as though the child knew his thoughts were upon it. It had not cried, apparently happy to just sit next to the warmth of his body heat and sleep. Exhaustion weighed heavily on Leif's shoulders, but he forced himself to continue. Finally the lights of the village came into sight and he nearly shouted his relief to the mountains, but stopped himself lest he wake the child.

His wife seemed better when he finally arrived back, sitting up in a chair and stirring a pot hanging over the fire.

"Leif," she greeted, "I am so glad you are returned safely." Leif dropped the firewood and stooped to kiss her cheek, then stepped back, mouth opening uncertainly.

"What is wrong Leif?" She asked, her face pale from sickness lined with concern.

"In the fir stand Asta, I… I found something."

"What? Oh, love, tell me there was not the body of some poor soul?"

"Not exactly," Leif hesitated, "I… Asta, I found a child."

Asta's eyes filled with tears as the pain of her own loss augmented the ache at the thought of a child out in the cold.

"Oh Leif…" she gasped, a tear escaping to roll down her cheek.

"No, but Asta… the child lives. I… I have it here."

"You… you have a…?"

Leif nodded. "I do." He pulled open his jacket and gently extracted the baby. The motion woke the child and it mewled unhappily, head turning as it searched for food.

Asta opened her arms for the child and Leif gave it gladly over. The baby burrowed itself into her chest and she laughed painfully, pulling open her shirt to nurse it with the milk meant for her own son, tears streaming down her cheeks even as she smiled gently at the suckling babe.

"He needs us, Leif." She spoke softly, but with certainty and Leif knew the baby was theirs now.

"What shall he be called?" He asked, hands brushing the tears from her cheeks before settling one on her shoulder, the other stroking over the crown of his new son.

"Loki. He shall be Loki."

Leif and Asta lived with their new addition in a world of bliss for almost a year. She never knew Loki was not truly human, and the other villagers believed Loki to be their own child – they never spoke of their loss, nor of Leif's discovery. Loki was known as Loki Leifson, and they never sought for it to be otherwise, only smiled knowingly when people tried to claim that Loki had his father's nose, or his mother's high cheekbones.

Loki would gnaw on anything he could get in his mouth, crawling and rolling around the floor of the hut and eventually taking the occasional shaking step. He was an intelligent and pleasant child, Leif and Asta's pride and joy. He looked at them both with such love and trust in his eyes that Leif could not bear to think how empty his life might have been if he had just left that demon child in the snow.

Asta had never really recovered from her birth, always weaker than she had been before. Years later, Leif reflected that perhaps she had only been keeping herself alive to give Loki the mother he needed, as the winter after Loki was weaned from the breast, her fevers returned with a vengeance, and one morning Leif woke to find the hand he clutched in sleep gone cold.

He pulled her on a sled to the trees where he had first found Loki, where he had buried their stillborn baby and carved out a grave for her in the frozen ground beneath the trees. The whole village lived in mourning, and Loki found himself passed around the neighbours for a time whilst Leif struggled to piece his world back together.

They left the village after the first time Loki turned blue again. Leif had taken Loki out with him to hunt for food, and looked up at one point to find his son playing in the snow, his skin storm blue. Loki appeared entirely unfazed by the change, but Leif swept him quickly up in his arms, panic flaring in his gut. Leif loved Loki regardless, but should another villager see him in this form he would surely be injured or worse when they persecuted him as a devil. Losing the other light of his life would kill him as surely as a knife to the throat.

The very next day Leif piled their belongings onto a sled and they began the long walk. They travelled for nearly a year until they reached a place where there was no snow. The warmth was jarring for Leif, who had never before travelled beyond the cold peninsula he had been born in. Loki adapted with the natural ease of a child, bedding down happily in the tiny one-room home Leif found for them, and romping in the street with other children his age, the new language tripping easily from his tongue.

Leif never found a new love, but his bond with Loki was close, and Loki was all he needed. They were happy in their sunny town where it rained in winter, but never snowed. Happy and safe. When Loki was 13, Leif noticed something. As his friends hit puberty they were growing rapidly, voices deepening and beards sprouting haphazardly from their chins. Loki, however, remained small and slender, his voice high and boyish, his cheeks smooth. Leif was not overly alarmed at first – it was not uncommon for some boys to grow later than others into men. Another few years later though, Loki was still as unchanged as the wooded hills that surrounded their town. Leif knew then that though Loki might wear the guise of a human, he would never truly be the same. Loki, too, had begun to notice he was different, and Leif knew he would soon have to tell him the painful truth of his origins.

Loki was a studious child – he learnt to read from a neighbour and grew with a love of all literature and knowledge. In the evenings, he would often spend long hours in the library of a local lord, which he was allowed to use in exchange for his help managing the stables. He had a brief flirtation with one of the older boys at the stable, innocent and carefully hidden as they both revelled in the delicious taste of forbidden love. That ended when the other boy was married to a girl who worked in the kitchen. Next, Loki loved one of the scullery maids. She had golden hair that fell to her waist, and he would tease her, pulling on it gently whilst he helped her carry water from the well.

* * *

He was walking home late after using the library one evening, when he noticed a pillar of smoke rising above the village.

He felt the first prickling of fear as he hastened his way back towards the collection of houses. There was an eerie silence blanketing the village. Loki broke into a run, skidding around the corner to his street. A lot of the houses were blackened from smoke, with smouldering holes in their straw roofs. Worst by far though was the charred ruins of the house at the other end of the street. Loki's house. A wordless cry tore from his chest as he saw it, and the people stood around outside it turned to look at him.

Loki walked numbly towards them for a few steps, but then came the most horrifying moment of his young life. Without noticing how, he was on his knees, unable to move any further because there, on the ground was a body. A corpse, as black and damaged as the wooden frame of his house. Leif.

It took a week before his neighbours managed to calm Loki enough for him to speak coherently, though he rarely did. It was nearly two weeks before he allowed more than the barest morsels of food to pass his lips, and three weeks after he lost the only constant in his life that he finally picked up what remained of his belongings and left.


	2. 2 - A Name

Loki wandered for nearly 200 years, never staying more than a few years in one place. This was more through necessity than choice, because he still wasn't aging as he should. It wasn't that he did not age at all – he could track how his height changed and his body grew more muscular – it was just that he was aging so slowly it was almost unnoticeable.

Each time he left another life he had carved out for himself he felt a little more alone, and he wondered every day if Leif could have told him what he was.

Sometimes he would try to imagine Leif was there with him to answer his questions, but the all the imaginary father would say to him was "You are my son, and oh how beloved," or some such other of his father's stock phrases. Recalling his father's voice telling him how much he loved him always made Loki ache with how much he missed him, so he would go to the nearest tavern and distract himself inside the first warm, willing body that he found.

He did not necessarily live a good life. Drifters like him rarely found themselves a comfortable home, so he delved into the underworld of each town he visited, earning coin through shady deals and petty theft. His skills as a pickpocket were unparalleled, and he could find his way into any home no matter how well locked, blend in seamlessly with any crowd. One of his favourite tricks was to sneak into some grand party and prey on the upper crust woman, charming then thoroughly then swiping their precious jewels as they swooned into his arms on the ballroom floor.

The first time he killed a man was when he looked about 17, though in reality he was closer to 170. The man had reacted with repulsion when Loki had subtly propositioned him in a small tavern known for attracting a certain 'kind' of customer. At first Loki merely brushed him aside, but the man had waited for him in the alley outside the tavern and attacked him, striking violently from behind and grabbing Loki's throat. Almost without thinking, Loki had pulled out his knife and slid it cleanly in-between the man's ribs, killing him almost instantly.

The blood on his hands had frightened him so much that he ran, his father's voice ringing in his ears, shame in every syllable at the thought of his son as a murderer. Loki ran until he reached a land where he had never been, where they spoke his father's tongue and lived through winters colder than he had ever experienced before.

He avoided other people, preferring to spend his time in self-inflicted isolation, the memory of that man's last breath still heavy on his mind.

The second time he killed someone was not long after. He was asleep in the park when the first snow fell. He woke up to the morning light covered by a blanket of snow. Oddly, he felt no cold, nor had the snow melted into his clothes. He sat up and opened his eyes, blearily looking around at the pristine snow, sparkling gently under the rising sun. In the corner of his eye, something unfamiliar moved and he turned his head to see what it was.

Suddenly he was wide awake. It was him. The skin of his bare hands was a deep blue, raised lines running up his fingers and over his wrists, disappearing into is sleeves.

Loki panicked.

Unfortunately, his body's natural reaction was that of fight or flight, and for some reason his instincts took him towards fight. To his horror, ice crept down his arms, appearing from nowhere and shaping itself into two vicious blades. Terrified, Loki bashed the ice against a tree trying to smash it off his arm, but it was too strong, and any chips or cracks he made only froze quickly back over.

"What devil are you?" A voice cried behind him. Loki had not noticed the man's approach, too distressed by the alien body he wore.

"I…" he stuttered. "I know not."

"Back, demon!" The man shouted, picking up a rock from the ground and throwing it at him. "Get ye back to Hell."

Loki backed away as the man continued to throw rocks and pinecones at him, shouting all the while that he must be some demon. A rock hit Loki on the head and his hands flew up protectively, surprised when the onslaught suddenly stopped. Lowering his hands, his heart jumped into his mouth as he saw the reason the man's attacks had ceased. A shard of ice was embedded in the man's neck, and he slumped slowly to the floor as Loki watched with wide eyes. Red blood stained the snow and Loki backed away from the scene, finally turning to run when the light left the man's eyes.

He did not run far this time. He hid himself in the forest just outside the town, only coming out on nights when it snowed, or when it was so bitterly cold that no-one else would be outside. He was still seen though, wandering around the town as he searched for food. The townspeople gave a name to this mysterious creature that wandered the streets on cold nights, leaving a trail of ice behind him. They named him Jack Frost, and ran screaming from him, crying a warning to others that Jack Frost was on the prowl tonight.

It took Loki several months to work out how to escape the blue skin. When the snow began to thaw, and the days grew warm he somehow managed to slip back into human form. The memory of his father helped him, he found. He had avoided thinking of his father those last few months, still ashamed that he had killed two men and unable to bear thinking about his father's disappointed face.

The disappearance of the mysterious Jack Frost with the approach of the summer months only reinforced his legend. When Loki visited the town again in human form townspeople told him stories of the monster that had prowled their streets, freezing everything he touched.

The word stuck with Loki. Monster. Frightened of his own body, the word grew in his mind like thorns, hardening him to the world around him. If he was a monster, why should he not behave as such?

For a few decades he made a lucrative living as a highwayman. By this point he was tall and well-built enough to intimidate the bravest of souls, and his silken voice wove threats so prettily men would fearfully hand over weighty purses of gold at barely more than a commanding twitch of Loki's fingers. He only very rarely had to resort to violence, but when he did he did so efficiently and without emotion or mercy. He killed again, but never quite felt the same remorse. Or if he did it was buried deep inside him beneath that word, _monster,_ until it festered from remorse into bitter self-loathing.

The only joy he found was in study. When he crept into houses to steal people's valuables, his first stop was always the library, where he would seek out any new treasure to read. He had now established himself a permanent home, an isolated lodge in the Scottish mountains where few would stumble across him, and that house had an ever growing library.

It was this habit of literary theft that led to the moment which, perhaps changed his life more than any other.

In the course of burglarising a wealthy lord he discovered an ancient treatise hidden away on the subject of magic. Magic was something Loki had only ever heard whispers of before, something he had thought mere superstition. Curious, and knowing the lord would not be arriving back until late that evening, he sat down on the luxurious bear skin rug and began to read. He only meant to read for five minutes, to decide if it was worth taking that treatise home with him, but the pages turned beneath his eager fingers and five minutes, then ten came and went entirely outside of Loki's notice. Time had dropped sharply out of his consideration with the revelation of an entire new world to explore.

When Lord Merton came home that night he found a strange sight indeed. Lounging on the rug of his library, deeply fascinated by an ancient tome was a young man, so absorbed in his reading he had not even noticed the lord's approach.

Safe in the knowledge that he could do so unnoticed, he stopped to observe the man. He was young. Certainly no more than 25, likely younger. His face though, was arranged in a manner that gave him the air of one older by far. A bag of Lord Merton's valuables lay beside him. A burglar then, caught in the act. To be a burglar meant an uneasy lot in life – which would perhaps explain his air of maturity – if he had lived through more than a man his age ought. He was evidently highly skilled in his craft, given that he had found his way into one of the better guarded homes of the kingdom, and appeared to have done so without significant difficulty, given the pristine state of his clothes. The clothes themselves seemed to be of rather greater quality than his occupation would suggest, as did the fact that he seemed to be reading – those engaged in petty theft were not commonly educated enough to appreciate such literature. Then again, magic tended to find ways to make itself known to those with the talent.

"Boy. Can you read that?" Lord Merton barked.

The man's head shot up and he scrambled to his feet, alarm filling his eyes.

"Of course." His chin lifted haughtily. "I should hardly be so intrigued as to allow myself to be caught had I not been able to read it."

His voice was deep and refined, words well-formed and eloquently spoken. His manner and voice spoke more of entitlement than they did of the underworld. Perhaps this was a man who stole more for personal amusement than necessity. Either way, an interesting creature to be sure.

"Ah, excellent. I see then that magic herself has led me a new apprentice."

The man's eyes widened in surprise at the unexpected response.

"I do beg your pardon?"

"Do tell me your name lad, we must get better acquainted if I am to teach you."

"Teach me what, exactly?"

"Magic of course. Only those with a gift for the arcane arts are even capable of reading that text."

Lord Merton raised his hand and Loki jumped and swore violently as every valuable item he had taken flew from the carpet beside him and returned to their places in the house. His vernacular was another piece of the puzzle Lord Merton sought to resolve. Such language was rarely heard outside of the underworld, so certainly there was a connection of some variety. Perhaps a fallen aristocrat? The man recovered himself quickly and watched the silverware re-arranging itself in the cupboard.

"So, it would appear this treatise speaks true and magic is more than petty superstition." It was almost a statement, but the hint of uncertainty turned his words into a question.

"Well how else do you propose I might have done that?"

"I know not." The man frowned. "You say you wish to teach me? Why?"

"If magic is not passed on to the next generation of those gifted, the art will die out. What better reason can there be?"

"And my burglary?"

"Incomplete, and therefore entirely forgettable."

The boy – man's eyes narrowed in suspicion, searching for the lie within his words. "As you say."

"So you will stay?"

The man's mouth gaped slightly.

"Surely you are not so naïve as to allow a petty criminal under your roof?"

"Ah but you wouldn't be a petty criminal, you would be my apprentice."

"That is naught but semantics. What of your safety? Men such as myself are not to be trusted."

"I am quite sure there are pitiful few men such as you." Lord Merton began to walk around the room looking at the books on his shelves as he talked. The man's eyes followed him closely and he mirrored his every step, keeping a cautious distance between them. "And I do not fear for my safety. The call of magic is far too seductive not to entrap a curious mind, you would surely not do harm to the man who will teach you. Besides which I have many means of securing my personal safety. I appear soft, I know. But rest assured." The lord's voice took on a note of warning. "I am not a man to be trifled with, and those who do find themselves considerably worse off."

The stranger held his gaze evenly, and eventually nodded.

"Very well. I will accept. I am Loki."

"Well met, Loki. I assume from your presence in my home you are aware of my identity.

Loki nodded. "Lord Merton."

"The very same."

To Lord Merton's frustration, despite Loki spending nearly a decade learning from him, he consistently refused to be introduced onto the social circuit. The only person he deigned to see with any regularity was Lord Merton himself, and even these encounters became less frequent as Loki's abilities grew and he was able to practise on his own.

Throughout this time, Loki's visage barely changed from the young man Lord Merton had found sprawled across his floor years ago. His hair grew longer and he refreshed his clothes regularly to follow the changing fashions, but his face remained ever the same.

The day after Lord Merton's curiosity finally led him to ask about this strange phenomenon, Loki was gone. The room that had become his was cleared, every book, every precariously balanced alchemical experiment gone as though he had never been there. Such was the nature of the mage, Lord Merton supposed. They were flighty creatures.

It was no surprise to him when news reached him of a new apprentice sorcerer in France. He went by a different name, but Merton was certain it was the same man. Loki was exceptionally gifted, more powerful than Merton had ever thought possible, and his unquenchable thirst for knowledge could never have been satisfied by Lord Merton's teaching alone.

He quietly followed Loki's progress throughout the years, listening out for word on the grapevine of powerful new apprentices appearing and disappearing all over Europe. Always the apprentices were described as young, though the physical characteristics began to vary – evidently Loki had discovered shapeshifting. Lord Merton followed from his home in Britain, never seeking to contact Loki, knowing such a thing would not be welcome. He followed and grew old, whilst Loki was ever young. Just before his death he was visited by a man with white blond hair and deep brown eyes. He knew straight away who this stranger was.

"Loki." He rasped. "You have grown."

The man's visage faded to reveal the young face he knew so well.

"No Lord, I remain the same."

"Your soul lives through each and every day, regardless of whether that time is shown upon your face. Your eyes show me your growth, Loki. I knew when I first saw you that you were not what you seemed."

Loki's eyes widened, glittering in the darkened room.

"You never said."

"You would have left. You did leave."

Loki looked away, eyes downcast.

"I apologise. It was ungrateful of me."

"You were scared."

There was a long pause, then Loki closed his eyes.

"Yes."

"For how long now have you been alone?" Merton asked curiously.

"I do not know the exact number. I have not kept close track. But I know it has been upwards of 400 years."

Merton's heart ached for the man before him who broadcast loneliness in his every move, but still pushed all others away.

"That is a long time to be alone."

"It is."

"Be less afraid. The world is changing and you can change with it. When you find your new family, do not be afraid to embrace them. Know that you were beloved to me. All my students are, and you are by far the greatest among them."

To his surprise, his words sparked tears in Loki's eyes, though they were quickly brushed away.

"My father would say such things to me, long, long ago." He admitted, his voice barely more than a whisper.

"Believe him." Merton urged.

"I fear I have disappointed him. I am not a good man." Loki said, his voice somehow even quieter.

"Never so. He loved you and I am sure he always would. You are neither good nor bad Loki, but you have the potential to do both. Remember the good in yourself and you will start to display it to others."

Loki did not respond, but sat quietly for several long minutes, mulling those words over.

"I… I am not sure you are right, Lord Merton. But perhaps I might try. I would appear to have a long life yet ahead of me."

"It would appear so." Merton agreed, nodding feebly. Loki stood suddenly.

"I must take my leave of you my Lord. I thank you for all you gave me, be it decades too late."

"And I thank you for coming here. Fare you well Loki."

"And you also."

And then he was gone.

Merton died a few days later. A number of his apprentices attended his funeral but Loki was not among them. The world continued on.


	3. 3 - The Exchange

A few hundred years later, someone else died. Loki watched dispassionately as their last breath hissed out of them. Once certain they were fully expired he reached out and tugged his knife out of their windpipe. He wiped it calmly on his victim's trousers and stood, tucking it away carefully and turning to look at the family huddled against the wall. They shrank away from him when he raised his hand and he stopped, raising a sardonic eyebrow. Ignoring their flinch, he released the knots on the ropes of the smallest child, then strode away, leaving the door open behind him. He stalked the corridors of their escape route, ensuring it was clear, then turned a corner, and simply disappeared.

He reappeared in a dark alley, stepping out of the shadows and flicking his jacket so the wicked knife was hidden before joining the crowds milling along the busy street. He walked quickly, but not enough to draw attention to himself, slipping smoothly through the throng. After walking some distance he turned into a multi-storey carpark, pulling a pair of keys from thin air and climbing into a smart but understated BMW.

He drove some way out of town and stopped at what appeared to be an abandoned farm. He pulled out a phone and dialled, face not displaying so much as a hint of emotion as he popped his boot and glanced down at the woman inside. Her wrists were tied, and her legs were bound at the ankles and again at the knees. A cleave gag wrapped across her mouth, cutting slightly into her cheeks and soaking up her frightened tears.

Sighing, Loki reached down, ignoring her flinch to pull the gag off.

"Breathe, and calm yourself woman. Don't bother screaming, no-one will hear you. Now hush, I must make a call."

There was a hint of a Russian accent in the twist to his vowels. He spoke quietly, and with the calm air of a man who does not plan on violence, but will freely dispense it if pushed.

"Yes, hello." Now his voice was brisk and business-like. "Your family are safe. I disposed of the man holding them." He paused. "Well now that would just have been a waste of time. I opened the door for them, they are quite capable of finding their own way out. Besides, I rather think they would not have welcomed my company. I believe I may have frightened them." His tone made it quite clear that he could not care less.

He listened again to a response and irritation puckered his brow.

"Yes of course I removed the evidence, do you take me for an amateur." … "Yes, I have her. No, she is entirely unharmed." … His nose wrinkled again, "I most certainly will not… No… I have no quarrel with this woman... She is collateral, I will not see her harmed unnecessarily. No a finger is not necessary. We have her. Make your demands and if they insist on proof I will take a lock of her hair, but no more."

The woman gasped out a frightened sob below him and he tsked, holding the phone against his chest briefly to muffle his voice to the man on the other side.

"Do calm yourself. We will receive the ransom, and I will return you. It is not a complicated transaction. Hold your tongue, if you will. Mr Delaney will be most unhappy if he hears that I have even seen fit to remove your gag."

He returned the phone to his ear.

"Apologies, I had to deal with the woman… Yes, I rather scared her... Yes she is crying… Your vindictiveness is not a desirable feature Delaney... Use a dictionary you uneducated cretin… very well, I will wait."

He hung up the phone and looked down at the woman.

"If I release your legs, will you run? I would not advise it, believe me when I say I am far faster than you."

The woman drew in a shuddering breath.

"I won't run." She promised. Loki stared sternly at her for a moment and then nodded, apparently satisfied that she was being honest. He reached down and lifted her easily out of the boot of the car, setting her down none-too-gently on the ground and pulling his knife out to slice through the ropes.

"This is the boring part." He said, pulling a pair of books bottles of water from the car and lounging across the bonnet of his car. He tossed one of the books, a ratty paperback of '1984' across to her along with a water bottle. "We wait. Your dear husband should be scrambling for the money as we speak, and when he does I will give the details of our location and wait for you to be collected."

The woman picked up the book with trembling hands.

"He won't pay." She said softly. "What happens if he doesn't pay?"

Loki frowned. "It is not for me to say. I imagine Mr Delaney will make that decision."

The woman sobbed again and Loki rolled his eyes, lying back against his front windscreen and opening his book to a marked page.

They passed the next few hours in the same position, the woman occasionally letting out another choking sob and Loki ignoring her. Finally, his phone rang. He picked it up on the first ring.

"Frost… Yes of course I still have her…" His face dropped slightly, though he quickly recovered and returned to his impassive mask. "Is that so?... So what will be done with her?... mere curiosity I assure you… of course, I will bring her…" Here, the woman, having gathered enough of what had happened to know she was in danger, leapt to her feet and began to run. Loki threw his head back with a put upon sigh. "I will be with you in half an hour."

He put the phone down, and was suddenly in front of the woman as she stumbled across the barren earth. She screamed as he caught her bound wrists in a bruising grip, holding her up as his foot swept her legs from beneath her.

"I did tell you not to run," He grumbled as he tossed her unceremoniously over his shoulder, entirely unaffected by her squeals and struggling. "This could have been so much more civilised."

He dropped her into the boot of his car and replaced the gag, and bindings around her legs. Checking to see she was tucked completely inside he slammed the boot closed and slid into the driver's seat. He drove them back into the city at breakneck speeds, pulling into a private parking garage and parking in a space right next to the stairwell. He rapped on the boot by way of warning before pulling it open. The woman began struggling as soon as the boot was opened, muffled shrieks issuing from behind her gag. Loki drew his hands back and waited patiently.

"Really girl, do you think this will make the slightest bit of difference?" After a minute, the woman's screams tailed off and she fell still save for a few abortive tugs at her wrists. "That is more like it." Loki soothed. "Now, I will give you two options. The first is that you behave with a little dignity and I release your legs so you can walk into that room on your own two feet. The second is that I carry you upstairs, trussed up like a Christmas turkey, and you lie pathetically on the floor whilst we discuss your fate. Which is it to be?"

The woman remained still, and Loki pulled the gag briefly up to hear her response.

"The first one, please." She stuttered.

"Ooh, lovely manners dear." Loki flashed a mocking grin as he replaced the gag. "And an excellent decision. It all feels rather thuggish when I have to carry young ladies around like a sack of so many potatoes."

He slipped his knife through the bonds again and haled her out of the boot, setting her on the ground and taking her shoulder in a hard, unyielding grasp. He did not put the knife away, rather pushed the edge of it lightly against her back, just enough for her to know it was there.

"This is a throwing knife, girl. Run and you will find it lodged in your spine. I do not miss. Understood?"

The woman nodded, hands shaking violently in front of her.

"Very well. Up we go then." Loki reached around her to open the door, and nudged her through and up the stairs.

They entered a room at the top of the stairs where Mr Delaney was waiting with a really quite excessive number of bodyguards.

"Good grief Delaney, are you expecting a woman or an invading army?" Loki commented dryly as they walked in.

"Hard to be sure with a slippery bastard like you, Frost." The man spoke with a coarse New York accent, dislike of Loki clear in every word he spoke.

"I am your man, Delaney as long as you pay me."

"Long as I bid the highest more like."

"Quite. You are most welcome by the way."

"For what?"

"Well, I _did_ rescue your loved ones from a really quite sticky situation."

"Barely. Poor kids are going to be having nightmares for weeks."

"Oh that would have happened anyway, children are so frightfully easy to scare. Anyway, if we are finished, I have business elsewhere…"

"No you'll stay, I've got another job for you with this bitch."

Loki frowned.

"Really Delaney, such language."

"Shut your trap. Moss won't pay up, so his pretty little lady is going to auction. You'll be delivering her."

"To auction?" Loki asked innocently. "How fitting. Since you are unable to raise a ransom from her you will source the money in other ways. Very clever Delaney, you must be ever so proud."

"Shut the hell up Frost. Go put her back in the car and come back up, you'll have business of your own at the Warehouse."

"Very well." Loki pushed the woman roughly out the door and near dragged her down the stairs. He forced her back into the boot of the car, wrapping duct tape around her legs again with his brow furrowed in distaste. Closing the boot again he turned and marched back up the stairs, slamming the door behind him.

"What do you want Delaney?" He asked immediately upon re-entering the room.

"Someone's in a mood. Not happy with our little solution? Happy to kill but not to fuck?"

"Cease your profanities Delaney they do not make you sound any more intelligent. I do not care a jot what you do with Mrs Moss, I am merely annoyed that I shall have to cancel what promised to an extremely… pleasant evening."

Delaney leered at him, a lecherous grin stretching his pockmarked cheeks. "Plenty of that where you're going Frost."

Loki snorted derisively. "No thank you, Delaney. Do what you wish with your own genitals, but I generally prefer my partners wet and willing."

"Cute, Frost, real cute." Delaney sneered, then turned back to business. "Right. Word has it there's a mole at the Warehouse. Makes sense since they've been busting a few more of our deals recently, but we don't know who it is. I want you to get in there, find out who our rat is and I want them dead, got it?"

"Got it." Loki replied. "Now if that will be all I have a young woman possibly asphyxiating in the trunk of my car, and I understand she will fetch rather more if she is still alive at auction. I will contact you when the job is done. Text me the address in 20 minutes."

"Make it quick." Delaney ordered, and Loki paused a moment, hand resting on the door handle.

"I'll be done before the week is up." He promised, then stepped out and closed the door before Delaney could respond.

He got in his car and started the engine, ignoring the thumps that came from the boot as his cargo realised they were on their way. He roared up the exit ramp and drove away, stopping a few streets away in a spot he was certain was not overlooked by any cameras.

He pulled out his phone and cast a quick spell to check for listening devices. Finding none, he dialled for the police.

"A black BMW with the following number plate will drive up 52nd Street heading North in approximately 10 minutes." He said in a matter of fact tone, giving the plates of his own car clearly, repeating it twice for clarification. "I think you will be extremely interested in the contents of its trunk."

He gave the details of his car once more, hung up, and restarted the engine, driving in circles for a few minutes before heading towards his hopeful rendezvous with the police.

Fortunately, they had listened to his warning. Loki had barely turned onto the arranged road when police cars pulled up around him. Not wanting his cargo to be alerted to their presence, he pulled straight over, reaching into the glove compartment to pull out a pair of dark sunglasses and shifting his hair to a mop of red curls.

He stepped straight out of the car and nodded to the approaching policeman.

"Thank you for your response." He spoke with a lilting Irish accent. "Do me a favour and don't let her go back to her husband. He's the reason she's in this mess." He pushed past the policeman, ignoring his shout and blended into the crowd already gathering around them. Hidden from view he rapidly removed his glasses and returned his hair to the white-blond he usually kept it for his guise of Jack Frost. He re-joined the crowd as a bystander, watching as the boot was opened with the keys he had left in the ignition, and Mrs Moss was helped out, leaning heavily against a policeman, relief clear in every element of her body language.

Her eyes searched the crowd, somehow meeting his, and he nodded almost imperceptibly before turning and striding away, losing himself once again to the anonymity of a city street.


	4. 4 - Infiltration

Loki was not expecting the police to follow him after his tip off 'lost' him Mrs Moss. Moving away from the scene he did not detect anyone trailing him, but decided to err on the side of caution. He twisted and turned and doubled back on himself as he walked until he was several blocks away. Only when he heard the ping of his phone with the address he needed did he finally pause. He memorised the address then shot a quick text back.

'Compromised (use a dictionary). I escaped, but Moss is with the police. I will be disposing of this phone in case of tracking. I will contact you with a new number when I reach the destination.'

He pulled the SIM card and memory card out and burnt them to ash with a gesture of his hand, then dropped the shell of the phone down a nearby drain. He continued a short ways looking closely at cars parked by the kerb before selecting one that caught his eye, a brand new Volvo. He made short work of hotwiring the ignition and was soon tearing down the freeway outside the city, relishing the approaching sirens. He led the police on a chase for a few exhilarating minutes, then vanished from behind the wheel, transporting himself to the top of a nearby tree to watch the car crash and burn, whilst the confused cops tried in vain to extract the body of the driver. He waited patiently until the crash site had been cleared, amusing himself by teaching the birds nesting nearby to swear. They were common wood pigeons, and naturally lacked the ability to imitate the human voice, but a small shot of magic to their vocal chords took care of that, and soon the birds were cheerfully shouting curses at the passing cars. When it grew dark, he changed his form and clothing to those of a woman and stepped up to the side of the highway to hitch-hike the next few miles.

A pair of college kids stopped for her and she spun them a merry tale of tragedy about her friend leaving her by the side of the road after a vicious argument about the relative merits of different types of facemask. She then bored them silly with entirely made up details of different types of facemask and their benefits, and finally asked to be let out at the first sign of civilisation, claiming she lived in a caravan just over the hill.

A short walk later, she arrived at the so-named 'Warehouse.' The feminine curves melted away and he grew several inches as he returned to his usual form, looming out of the darkness to frighten the guard sat in a poky room by the gate.

The Warehouse appeared to front itself as just that – a warehouse – for flat-pack furniture, if the sign was to be believed. Loki was sure there was a phony website with exactly the same name ripping people off with dodgy bedroom furniture at that very minute.

"Jack Frost." He extended a hand. "I believe you are expecting me."

A short radio call later and he was let in the gate. He walked calmly into the building, maintaining a carefully indifferent mask on his face as he encountered his first woman. She held her arms out to take his coat, eyes cast down, sunk into a face that screamed of drug addiction. He ignored her, preferring to keep his belongings with him.

Loki was introduced to the boss of the venture, a charismatic middle aged man with a sharp suit and carefully groomed facial hair. His dark hair was tinged with grey around the temples, and his recent botox injections did little to hide the lines stretching across his forehead.

"Your name?" Loki asked, sinking uninvited into a stylish armchair.

"Giles Kane."

"My job?"

"Find our rat, find out what he knows, find out what his boss knows, kill him."

Loki hummed, drumming his fingers on the arm of the chair.

"Simple enough then. And my fee?"

"Delaney will…"

"Not pay me enough. This place is unhygienic and unpleasant. Should you desire my best work it would do you well to ensure my comfort."

"A stipend then, and one of our better guest suites. Oh, and you may take your pick of the women."

"Keep your whores, I can get a woman on my own." Loki paused, weighing his words carefully. "Though should I take note of a particularly lovely creature I may call that offer in at a later date."

"Right." Kane agreed with a small roll of his eyes at Loki's superior attitude.

"I will need access to all your files, all your rooms. If you even suspect the presence of a federal agent then he – or she – is leaving a trail. It will not take me long to find it."

"It better not. We've lost some good deals cos of this jerk. Oi! Moreno, get in here."

The door to the office opened and a tall Hispanic man walked in, hands clutching at a battered defence rifle. He was tall, spindly in a way that put Loki in mind of some sort of insect – perhaps a crane-fly.

"Moreno, give your keys to Frost."

Kane ignored Moreno's protests, only staring imperiously until he caved and handed his keys over to Loki with a sullen glare.

"How 'm I going to get around then?" He grumbled in a heavily accented voice.

"Not my problem." Loki replied, closing his fingers smugly around the keys.

"Out, Moreno." Kane ordered. "Right, Frost. Accounting and records is down the hall on your second left. All doors beyond that are 'residential.' Talk to anyone you need to but don't interrupt if they're working on something important. Your room will be number 2 on the top floor. Any questions?"

"None. I will update you on my progress as and when. Good evening."

Loki walked out of the office without waiting for a response and turned left, heading directly to accounting. He pulled out a few files and sat down, sweeping someone's mug off the desk so he could prop his feet up.

It took him five minutes to notice that one of the accountants was embezzling money from the establishment. Within ten though, he had decided they were not the turncoat. No, it was someone lower down. Loki replaced the accounting files and pulled out incident records instead.

It was laughable, really, that no-one else had spotted it, he thought as the pattern fell quickly into place in his head. One of their run-around men responsible for the collection and transport of payments, girls and other resources had a far higher rate of failure or police encounters than could be explained by simple bad luck. They were spread enough across different types of job so they were not all recorded in the same place, but when you looked at every transaction he was involved in, nearly 40 per cent of his ventures were busts, with a further number being foiled after his direct involvement had ceased.

Satisfied with an hour's work Loki headed to his room. It was adequate, he decided, but that was the greatest accolade he could award it.

After setting up a number of wards and barriers to protect him from being unknowingly overheard or disturbed, he snatched a few hours of sleep and woke early enough to catch the culprit before he left on that day's errand.

"Good morning." He droned from a spot behind the man, who was busying himself attaching false plates to a stolen motorcycle.

The man jumped, swore and spun to face him, climbing quickly to his feet.

"Jesus, give a man a heart attack, why don't you?"

"There are far more reliable ways to achieve that than simply alarming someone." Loki warned, pushing away from the box he leant on to stalk towards the man. A twist of his fingers surrounded them with an illusion so all the cameras watching them would see was Loki and the man talking about one of the facility's many women.

"My name is Jack Frost. I have been hired to find out and kill the man who has infiltrated this organisation. I now have found you. I don't care who you work for, or what information you have given to them. I will give you 24 hours before I reveal your identity to our illustrious employer. I strongly suggest you use that time to remove yourself from this position. Kindly tell your _other_ employer that next time they may wish to employ someone with a more solid grasp of subterfuge."

He did not stay to listen to the man's stuttered response, instead turning on his heel and slipping away. He spent the day pretending to comb through the organisations files, mentally cataloguing the key players in the scene, searching in particular for records of dealings with other establishments in the same group across other countries.

That evening, he spoke to the guard on the front, a man whose genial nature and pleasant face were marred only by his sadistic pleasure at the fate of the girls that came through his gate. During the day Loki had quickly identified this man as a central source of gossip, and it was through him that he learned how the spy had escaped.

"You hear about the arrest today?" The man asked as he lit up the cigarette Loki had offered him. Loki only shook his head, gesturing for the man to continue. "I think his name was Perks, or Polick or something. Got busted by the cops for fake plates on his bike. Apparently the ones he tacked on there belonged on some truck or something, so he was fucked soon as they checked 'em."

"That seems like a rather idiotic mistake." Loki mused, "What was he supposed to have been doing?"

"Christ, fucked if I know, I'm just the guard."

Loki just offered him another cigarette.

"Might've been something to do with getting a payment off some bigwig lawyer who bought one of our girlies." The guard offered, taking three. "Travels a lot I think, leaves the bitch at home when he goes so his mates can have a go."

Loki forced his mouth straight, concentrating for a moment on stopping the disgusted curl of his lip. He filed the information away along with the rest of what he had gathered that day, and tuned out the rest of the guard's despicable drivel, instead debating internally how to handle the spy's departure.

He could now safely accuse the real culprit, but that would put suspicion on every case he had ever handled, perhaps meaning girls like the one at this lawyer's house would be removed before their presence could be confirmed by the police.

Alternatively, he could lay the blame at another's feet. Now there was just the choice between the embezzling accountant, or the disgusting guard still rambling on about the time he was allowed in to visit some of the girls. He excused himself, and headed to Kane's office. By the time he knocked on the door, he had reached a decision.

"The man on the gate." He opened, walking in without waiting for a response, "He is not your sneak, but he is a gossip. You may wish to warn him of the dangers of speaking too openly. As for the offender… I have narrowed it down considerably, and will be continuing my investigation today. Kindly find some excuse for my continued presence here."

Again, he turned and left the room without waiting to hear Kane's reply. Early the next morning a thug knocked on his door to summon him back to Kane's office. He sat down smoothly in the chair Kane waved him to, and leant back, fingers steepled as he waited expectantly.

"You'll be a messenger." Kane began, and Loki nodded in acceptance. Delivering threats was something he excelled in, and taking a role within the organisation would give him a far greater insight than just looking at the paperwork. "Do you have my information?" Kane asked.

"I believe so. Give me half an hour to compile my evidence and I will return." Kane nodded, and Loki rose to leave.

He returned well within his allotted time, a few papers in his hand which highlighted the accountant's misdeeds, as well as a few happy coincidences which placed him under reasonable suspicion for a few of the real infiltrator's botched jobs. Convincing Kane of the man's guilt was not difficult, nor was it hard to persuade him that Loki should be given the task of interrogation – and left in peace to work.

Preferring not to mess around, Loki forced the man to scream audibly a few times, just for the sake of convincing Kane of his proficiency, then killed him quickly and – relatively – painlessly. He felt barely a flicker of long-since-denied remorse at killing a man who, despite innocent of the charge levelled him, was nonetheless guilty of far greater atrocities just by working for a trafficking ring.

"Ex-police." He lied later, "discharged after – truthful – rape accusations – got out of jail-time on a technicality. Working alone in some misguided attempt to 'make amends.'"

"Will there be another trying to infiltrate us?" Kane asked, leaning forwards in his chair.

"Possibly." Loki replied, knowing that in truth there would likely be a new spy in the ranks within a week. "He claimed to have shared information with 'friends,' but actually managed to avoid telling me who. I believe he was close to breaking point when he unfortunately suffocated as a result of the holes in his lungs."

He was lying through his teeth of course – the agonised screams coming from Loki's improvised interrogation room had been produced using nothing more brutal than an armlock, and the man had broken within seconds, snivelling as he disclosed every guilty secret of his embezzlement – Loki fully intended to claim some of the better-hidden funds, though he would return the majority to its proper place to avoid suspicion falling onto him.

Kane seemed satisfied with his response though. "Will you be disposing of the body?"

"It is taken care of."

"How efficient. I want you to stick around, keep an eye out for these friends of his."

"Certainly, assuming my rates will continue."

Kane nodded.

"Very well, then if you will excuse me."

Loki occupied the next few weeks delivering threats and demands to the Warehouse's miscellaneous clients. On one occasion, circumstances conspired to force him to bring a woman back to the warehouse after her buyer failed to complete his transaction. That evening, he took himself away from the building to a nearby dive-bar, fully intending to drink himself into a near-stupor and bury his cock in someone enthusiastically consenting, just to remind himself that such a thing as a genuinely willing woman existed.

His dark mood only grew worse as he downed his drink, and he soon abandoned the idea of seeking carnal fulfilment, knowing that given his anger and frustration, such a coupling would not end happily for his partner. So locked was he in his seething self-loathing that he failed to notice the woman until she sat down on the seat directly opposite him.

"Jack Frost?" She asked without preamble.

Loki looked her over. Young – perhaps 19 or 20 – though he was the first to acknowledge that such appearances could be deceiving. Well-honed physique - considerably too much muscle tone for it to be the result of merely casual exercise. Drop-dead gorgeous, but unusual enough features that her beauty could probably pass under the radar when she wanted it to.

"Sometimes." He responded.

"Drop the accent, I know a fake when I hear one."

"Then you are one of few." Loki replied, relaxing the slight Russian tinge he had habitually layered into his words of late, and allowing his voice to return to its natural tones and rhythms. "I assume you are the replacement?"

"Yes."

"And how do you propose to get yourself in?" He drew reluctantly on his magic, sobering himself entirely for the coming conversation.

"How would any woman get into that place?" The woman's face remained entirely blank, a twitch of one immaculately groomed eyebrow the only variation in her expression.

For all his detached demeanour, Loki felt a chill run through him. She would willingly subject herself to the treatment of a woman in the trafficking industry?

"Why?"

"Because I've had worse. And these girls shouldn't have to."

Worse. What worse could there be than having your every dignity stripped away? A part of Loki railed at him to protest that she could not possibly have any idea of the atrocities she could be submitting herself to, but something in the hardened lines of her exquisite face told him that yes, she knew exactly what she was doing.

"Pretty words, but you are little more than a girl yourself." Loki retorted, keeping his gaze assessing, but ultimately indifferent. "What do you want from me?"

"I need you to take me in. Say you found…"

"No." Loki cut her off. "It is well known in the compound that I am no big supporter of their operation. It would be out of character, besides which it would connect me to you. If you are caught suspicion will fall on me, and frankly my dear nothing would ruin my career quicker than suspected 'connections.'"

He held back the sigh of relief as his agile mind quickly came up with a valid excuse not to take her in himself. For all his moral ambivalence, he could not bring himself to take another woman into that hellhole. Once was enough. One woman staring at him with the dead eyes of a creature entirely resigned to its miserable fate.

"Why warn my partner then, if you're not going to help us?"

"Because I don't care. You can get yourself in, or you can give up. Ultimately it makes little difference so long as I get my pay-out at the end of it. I won't turn you in unless you fuck up so badly ignoring it would make me look incompetent. So don't fuck up."

He didn't give her a chance to argue. He stood and left the bar, stalking back to the Warehouse and up to his bed.

However, try as he might to remind himself he did not care, he could not sleep. Every time he closed his eyes he could not help but picture the beautiful spy. This was no heady fantasy though, nothing so pleasant. In his dreams the stoic woman was reduced to a cowering wretch who stared up at him with the listless eyes of a victim.


	5. 5 - Competence

Apologies for the delay to those following the story! On it continues!

* * *

Two dull weeks later, Loki happened across an interesting scene. A woman was squirming on the floor in the middle of the corridor, her blindfold fallen off and shrieking through a poorly executed gag whilst the man who – presumably – was escorting her in was doubled up in pain, clutching at his groin.

Smirking at the sight, Loki moved to simply step over the woman, unable to bring himself to actively assist in her transportation. He had to look down though, to avoid her still flailing legs, and he froze for a fraction of a second when he recognised the face looking back at him. The spy. Her hair was different, now peroxide blonde and curled unnaturally, and she had put on weight so her muscular physique was softened and disguised.

"New one?" He asked casually, poking at her disinterestedly with the toe of his foot. "Pretty thing, if a little trashy-looking."

The woman shrieked her offence at him and he chuckled, kneeling down to fix her blindfold, and re-tie her gag more efficiently.

"Calm yourself dear, there is precious little you can do help yourself. In fact I fear you may have made things worse for yourself with that little show of defiance. I will take her from here, Moreno. Apparently she requires a somewhat more competent hand. Where were you headed before you were brutalised by a restrained little girl?"

"Kane." Moreno wheezed, still too busy recovering his dignity to protest Loki's further insult to it.

Nodding, Loki tugged the woman with him along the corridors, pulling out one of his trusty knives to press into her back. He moved the knife to rest on her jugular as he let go of his grip on her to open the door to Kane's office.

"Delivery for you, Kane." He drawled. "She was with Moreno but apparently she was too much for him." He chuckled humourlessly. "Wherever did he find her?"

"Stupid bitch signed up to stay with him on some sofa-surfing website." Kane grinned. "Pretty hot one, huh?"

"Enough that I find myself wanting to call in the terms of our agreement." Loki agreed, infusing his voice with surprise – at himself. "Might I return her to you tomorrow?" A tear slipped from under the blindfold and ran down the woman's cheek. Very convincing.

Kane frowned, and Loki assumed he had been planning to 'sample' the woman himself. He shifted his grip on the knife subtly, but enough that Kane would notice it was now threatening to spit from Loki's hand towards him. Eying the knife nervously, Kane nodded. Loki grinned viciously, winding a hand into the woman's hair and leading her back out the door. Back in his own room, he made short work of the woman's gag and blindfold, though he left her wrists as they were, and tied her loosely to a chair first to stave off any immediate difficulties.

"Really?" The woman asked, glancing exasperatedly at her bound wrists.

"Really." Loki agreed. "I am an unknown quantity who is aware of your identity. Logically there is a significant possibility of you deciding to remove the risk factor. I do not wish this to be an issue, hence you are restrained." The woman shrugged unapologetically. "Is this an appropriate moment for me to congratulate you on your successful infiltration? Or should I be commiserating your impending loss of virtue?" The woman's eyes darted to the door. "We will not be overheard, I have long since ensured that." Loki added, correctly interpreting her concern. Fortunately she only nodded in understanding, rather than demanding details of how he had achieved that.

"I haven't had virtue for a long time, so the former I think."

Such hardness in one so young astounded even Loki.

"Very well then. A masterful performance. The tears were a nice touch."

"Thank you. You did a good job of acting like an entitled, heartless bastard."

"Oh that was no act. I am the very best at my job, Kane knows he is lucky to still have me on his side. Usually I bore of a job well before this point and move on."

"So why not this one?"

Loki did not skip a beat in his response, though the question echoed in his head. Normally he would have long since moved on from a job he found so reprehensible, but something about this place was drawing him in.

"Watching you and yours play spy so inefficiently has provided me with enough amusement to hold my attention for a time." Loki deflected. "Who is your employer?"

"Like I would tell you that."

"Hmm yes I thought that might be your response. Can you tell me what your interests in this operation are?"

"That depends. What are yours? Of the two of us, I'm the one in the weaker position within this organisation, so I currently stand with far more to lose. I'm not giving up my secrets until you do." The woman's words were accurate, but Loki suspected that she was in no more danger of being held against her will than he was. Already he could see her subtly working herself free of his – admittedly lacklustre – restraints, though he gave no indication that he had noticed.

"Then it appears we are at an impasse. I have held no counsel save my own for far longer than a youthful chit such as you could comprehend. I will not part with my secrets without motive."

"And what motive would you need?"

The woman paused after her question. To the untrained eye it would appear she was merely awaiting a reply, but Loki saw the tensing of her muscles and prepared himself. He opened his mouth as though about to respond and she struck. Snakelike, she flicked the chair she was now somehow loose from around with her foot, aiming to smash it into his side. Without checking on her success she then darted for the knife he had laid down nearby. She was fast, but Loki was faster. Deflecting the thrown chair he lunged at the woman, trapping her wrists and sending them both tumbling to the floor, crushing her beneath him.

The air left her body in a huff as Loki landed on top of her and he tsked.

"Kane will be annoyed with me now for returning you damaged. Please avoid behaving in a manner that will force me to injure you for real." He made no attempt to hide his uncommon strength as the woman tried to manoeuvre herself around him to escape. His fingers pressed bruises into her wrists, tightening relentlessly until she gave up.

"That is more like it." He purred. "Now, if you are quite finished with your little tantrum?" He went to release her, quickly catching her hand again when it flew to gouge at his eyes.

"Woman, I will quite gladly take you in hand should you force me. I will not interrupt your work. If you charm me I _may_ even offer my aid. I am growing bored with watching your little club stumble around. You know it took me little more than an hour to root out that imbecile you had here before? Pathetic. You seem slightly more competent, so all I ask is that you refrain from attempts to cause me injury. You would not be successful, of course, but it is irritating."

The woman's eyes narrowed at him, and she tugged her hand back. Loki held on a moment, long enough to make it clear that he was allowing her to withdraw from him, rather than her pulling herself away. She stared at him and he looked back unflinchingly, conveying a hint of his annoyance with the barest tilt of an eyebrow. Her gaze remained as calm as ever, but perhaps there was a touch more genuine wariness now.

"Now, unless you wish to go back and spend the night with Kane, might I suggest you calm the fuck down?" Loki requested exasperatedly.

"Fine." The woman bit out, righting the chair and sitting herself down in it. "The question was a real one though. What motive would you need?"

Loki ignored the repeated question, instead stretching himself out luxuriously on the bed.

"Do you have a name, girl?" he drawled.

"Elena Ortega." She offered, the name rolling easily from her tongue.

"A false name, I presume."

"You're one to talk."

"Oh I do protest. Jack Frost is the only name I have worn for years. I have another name, but it is known by me alone. To all intents and purposes, I am Jack Frost and no-one else."

The briefest hint of emotion flicked into Elena's eyes. Exactly what that emotion was, Loki was unclear. He suspected even the woman herself was uncertain. She did not seem practised in the art of feeling.

Then again, after so many decades of denying himself the luxury, neither was Loki.

His ears picked up approaching footsteps. Darting a mischievous grin at Elena, he relaxed the ward across the door that prevented them from being over heard, and began to kick his foot rhythmically against the head of the bed, driving it into the wall.

Elena looked at him like he was mad, eyes widening in understanding when moments later someone knocked at the door.

"Fuck off." Loki shouted at the door.

"Kane wants you downstairs."

"Tell him he'll have to wait…" Loki slowed his movements briefly so the bed stopped thumping. "Oh, at least another forty minutes. I'm having far too much fun to stop now." He slapped his hands together hard with a salacious wink at Elena, the sound of skin on skin echoing through the room. He resumed banging the bedframe against the wall, even adding in a grunt of pleasure for good measure. "Now kindly fuck off and let me get on with it or he'll be waiting even longer."

The footsteps retreated again and Loki waited a moment, re-establishing his sound-barrier before laughing richly at the half amused, half disgusted expression on the woman's face.

"Forty minutes?" She commented cynically.

"I assure you my dear, I can more than back that up if you care to try."

Elena just fixed him with a blank stare. "But was it really necessary?"

"Not just necessary, but really rather enjoyable."

She snorted lightly, the mood in the room far more relaxed than it had been previously.

"So what _do_ we do for the next 40 minutes?"

"Well, I have a few suggestions." Loki offered, only half joking.

"To quote you, kindly fuck off." She shot back.

"Shame. I wager you would have secretly loved the spanking."

She just rolled her eyes.

Instead, they passed the forty minutes each trying to push the other into revealing something of their motives, mission or methods. Neither quite succeeded, though Loki found herself quite certain that she was relatively new to whatever organisation she was affiliated with. He was sure she had pulled some slight deduction from him too, but even the most skilled reader of people would never guess at his true origins, and aside from that there was no single truth to his background, only a collage of different pictures he had built up in different places across the years.

Ten minutes before they had to leave, he called a halt to their mental game of chess.

"I hate to appear less than a gentleman, but we will have to do something about your appearance. I am not leaving you up here alone, which means you will be coming with me, which in turn means you must look ravished enough to do credit to my reputation."

The woman stood with another small snort of amusement, and efficiently rearranged her clothing so it appeared to have been rapidly thrown back on without much care to appearance, only cover.

Ducking into the bathroom, Loki dolloped facial cleanser onto a flannel and returned, offering it to her to smear her makeup down her cheeks, reaching out as she worked to worm his fingers into her hair and tease it into a tangled mess.

Finally, without ceremony, he pulled her lips to his in a bruising kiss. His teeth dug into her lower lip, tormenting it until he was quite certain it would appear red and swollen. His hand slipped down from her hair to rip the fabric of her flimsy top, exposing her bra as a couple of buttons pinged away into the corners of his room.

The kiss was purely functional, but nonetheless heated as he sought to recreate the ravages of a full hour in a bare few minutes. Despite himself, he found himself enjoying the process as he dipped down to suck dark marks into her neck, biting down hard on her collarbone so she jumped slightly beneath him. He lifted his head one more time to crash his lips down onto hers, then threw himself back when she bit him back, hard enough to break the skin.

"Was that really necessary?" He growled, blood welling in his mouth and trickling down his skin.

"It's an excuse for you to hit me." Elena retorted. "You said it yourself, I'm hot. I need you to 'damage' me enough to delay them moving me on or I'll be packed off somewhere else before I can do anything here."

Loki rolled his eyes.

"Well you could just have said so."

"I could. But this way you're annoyed, so you're less likely to pull your punches."

Loki didn't bother responding verbally, only balled his fingers and drove them into the side of her face, knocking her to the floor and kicking her in the ribs for good measure.

Elena pushed herself up, wincing.

"Broken ribs. Good, that's a couple of weeks at least."

"You are an odd creature." Loki observed. For a moment, he entertained the possibility that this woman might be like him - how else could one who appeared so young have such a disturbingly practical attitude towards her own body? But there was no way to confirm his suspicions without revealing far more of himself than he was willing to, so he held his tongue.

Without further delay, he took her arm in a bruising grip and dragged her out the door with him. As they walked, she began to pull in quiet sobs, holding her side tenderly and adjusting back to the character she had assumed. He moved his hand to twist in her hair, uncertain what to expect in Kane's office but confident in his ability to adapt.


	6. 6 - Define 'Necessary'

A little warning for you: In my mind, having been around a long time, and not really one for keeping things the same, Loki is one kinky fella, and that comes out a bit in this chapter. However, it's not everyone's cup of tea, nor is it particularly necessary to the story, so I've taken that section out of the main narrative (between the asterisks). I'm going to put it in at the end of the chapter if you want to read the kinkier version!

* * *

Chapter Text

"What the hell could have happened that you felt the need to interrupt my evening?" Snarled Loki as he walked into the office without knocking.

"Shit Frost what happened to you?" Kane asked, looking annoyed. "And what the fuck have you done to the girl?"

"Surely it cannot be hard to put two and two together?" Loki droned. "She bit me. I was not happy. She will _not_ be doing it again."

Elena choked out another sob.

"Where do I put her when I'm done?" Loki asked, rolling his eyes. "I won't have her snivelling keeping me up all night."

Kane rummaged in his desk and tossed Loki a key. "In there. Just dump her whenever. Now, you have a job tomorrow."

He slid a file over the desk.

"Adam Polkiss, arrested a couple weeks ago – tried to drive a motorbike with the plates for a semi, the moron. Higher-ups are worried he'll agree to talk. They want him dead, I'm delegating to you."

The photo in the front of the file was that of the previous infiltrator. Picking up the picture so Elena could see it, Loki nodded.

"I assume you have details of where he is being kept?" He asked tonelessly, mind whirring. He would presumably have to provide evidence of this man's death. Perhaps a photo of his body, or a death report from some government agency. He could always claim distaste as reasoning for refusing to cart around actual body parts – he had cultivated a reputation prissy enough that no-one would seriously question his reluctance, and dangerous enough that no-one would dare do so out loud.

"Queens."

A fairly easy job then – or at least it would be if their information was accurate – Loki had no doubt the man remained entirely un-detained.

"Very well then. I will get that done tomorrow. Now, if you will excuse us, I have an appointment." His hand dropped to pinch Elena's arse and she squawked indignantly.

"Get the hell out of my sight Frost."

Loki sketched an unquestionably mocking bow and retreated, pulling the tearful Elena with him.

Back in his room he allowed her to pull free of his grip on her arm and threw himself gracefully down into the more comfortable of his two chairs, forcing Elena to take the hard wooden chair she had been tied to earlier.

"I will need a way to contact your agency." He demanded, not bothering with any preamble.

"I don't have…" Loki just stared at her. Did she think him a fool? She sighed, reached down and pulled off a particularly ugly toe ring. "There's a transmitter in here, inside the ring. The ring itself is made of a new material we developed that is blocking the signal at the moment so I could get it in here without it being found if they scanned me. Take it somewhere in New York, break it open so it can transmit your location, and wait. It shouldn't take long for someone to come find you."

Loki nodded, taking the toe ring with only a small twist of his lips to betray his opinion of it.

Elena laughed. "The ugly ones get stolen less." She explained.

"I am more concerned with the fact that it has been on your foot for God only knows how long." Loki admitted.

"I'm sure you've encountered worse," Elena deadpanned. Loki did not need to speak to concede that she was right. He slid the ring into a pocket.

"We will wait a while longer and then I will drop you in what is to be your lodgings."

"Right." Elena nodded. She hesitated for a moment, so brief Loki might had missed it had he not been cautiously tracking her every movement. "We will need to fabricate more evidence. Since you came up with the bright idea of pretending not to be done with me…" her voice twisted sarcastically towards the end.

Loki just grinned unabashedly and was in front of her in moments, crushing her face to his with a commanding hand at the back of her neck. He ripped her top the rest of the way down and grasped her breast roughly, laughing at her angry yell, muffled by his lips.

"My dear, we are both beautiful people." He murmured into her ear. "This is a necessity, but that does not mean we cannot enjoy ourselves whilst we are at it."

An annoyed huff was the only response he got, but he rightly took it for her acquiescence, latching his teeth onto her earlobe as her fingers wound reluctantly into his hair.

(*)

Many long, heated minutes later, Loki was having far more fun than was professionally justifiable. He had spun Elena round and pressed her against the wall to mark some of his attentions down her back and luscious arse. This done, he found he now lacked an excuse to continue.

With a supreme act of willpower, he turned back to face him, and they were caught. Their pupils were both blown wide, eyes held together by some un-nameable force. (*) Arousal obvious, they stood frozen for the best part of ten seconds before Loki pulled himself back, turning sharply away.

"You should shower." He bit out. "Lest someone question the absence of my… seed."

She slipped wordlessly away, closing the door of the bathroom behind her with a quiet snap.

Alone in his room, Loki slumped against the wall, breathing heavily as he tried to dampen his erection. His mind was whirling at the painful juxtaposition between the cool detachment of necessity and the raw passion of their mutual arousal.

Shaking himself out of those thoughts with a muted growl, he set about gathering a few items whilst he waited for Elena to emerge from the shower. She did not take long, emerging from the shower looking for all the world as though she had just been thoroughly fucked in there. But the lack of bodily fluids painted across her hair and skin was explained, at least.

Loki pulled on a jacket and smoothed the fabric down delicately. If he was going to meet with some manner of spy organisation he wanted to be sure he was well dressed for it… not that he really possessed any item of clothing that couldn't be described as devastatingly stylish.

"Can you tell me anything more about your employers? I am going in blind so it would be helpful to have some reassurance that they do not intend upon shooting me on sight."

Elena just shook her head. "They won't shoot you without talking to you first. That's all I can give you."

"Fan-fucking-tastic." Loki groaned. "Well, we had best get this over with then. I will drop you in your quarters and be back to 'use' you again before long, in order that I might update you."

She stepped in, demanding another of his searing kisses to complete her debauched appearance, and then stepped back, already sinking into character with her eyes filling with tears. For Loki it was somewhat disturbing to see a woman he had just kissed look so broken. He suppressed a shiver and picked her up, slinging her over his shoulder, reassuring himself of her autonomy when she broke character for a short moment to curse at him for not warning her. He resumed the blank lines he habitually kept his face in when striding the corridors of the building and strode out of his room whilst Elena struggled weakly against his grip.

The room they entered reeked of sex and misery. There was a single bed with a cheap metal frame, an open set of cuffs attached to the headboard to secure its unlucky occupier if necessary, a small sink and a bucket that, judging by the smell, was all they had for a toilet. There was no window, and nothing on the walls.

Dropping Elena heavily onto the bed Loki ignored her slight grunt as the movement jarred her ribs. He glared around the room in distaste, then turned his displeasure onto the woman in front of him.

"I will have to secure you." He said, a subtle flick of his fingers ensuring they were safe from listening ears. "None can hear us." He was quite sure his spell had escaped her notice when she glanced cautiously at the closed door. "They make these rooms soundproof." Loki sneered, leaning in to whisper darkly in her ear. "Take a guess as to why. There are still cameras though, corner behind me and the direct opposite. They do not have microphones, but they can see you, so make sure you look appropriately scared of me."

Elena nodded. "Fasten me by my left wrist." She demanded, lips barely moving. Loki gave her no acknowledgement other than reaching out to pull her left wrist roughly up to the headboard.

That done, he resisted the odd temptation to rearrange her clothes to cover her better. She had not put her knickers back on after he had removed them, so she was almost entirely exposed. Instead, he ran his hands lecherously down her frame. She kicked out as his hands grazed her centre and he rose, fury on his face for the camera to see as he leaned up and wrapped one hand around her throat, leaning in close.

He thought there was a hint of genuine fear in her expression for a moment, before he relaxed his fingers enough that she was no longer choking. Without relaxing his face from its furious lines, he spoke again, looking for all the world as though he were hurling insults.

"I'm afraid I will have to bruise you a little, don't panic I do not intend to kill you." His fingers tightened again and her eyes bulged as her air was cut off. "Do try not to get yourself killed by anyone else, this is finally getting amusing." He flexed his hand, giving her a quick gasp of air before cutting it off again. He was struck again by a wave of nausea at the situation he was leaving her in. His own brutal treatment of her was necessary and agreed to, but as soon as he left she would be willingly at the mercy of others who would be doing it purely for their own sick pleasure.

"Be careful." He murmured, so softly she might not have heard him. He continued only slightly louder, "I apologise for what I am about to do," then spat in her face and turned, striding out of the room without looking back and locking the door behind him.

* * *

(*) Loki just grinned unabashedly and was in front of her in moments, crushing her face to his with a commanding hand at the back of her neck. He ripped her top the rest of the way down and grasped her breast roughly, laughing at her angry yell, muffled by his lips.

"My dear, we are both beautiful people." He murmured into her ear. "This is a necessity, but that does not mean we cannot enjoy ourselves whilst we are at it."  
An annoyed huff was the only response he got, but he rightly took it for her acquiescence, latching his teeth onto her earlobe as her fingers wound reluctantly into his hair.  
He teased her for nearly ten minutes, alternating violent kisses with soft caresses across her face and neck, tracking slowly down to her breasts, leaving a trail of bite marks in his wake. In the interest of keeping things at least a little on track, he did not bother to remove her bra, only brushed his lips briefly over the spot where one peaked nipple pushed against the fabric.  
Straightening to his full height, he loomed over her and grasped her wrists tightly, spinning her round to face the wall and lifting them easily over her head to hold them with one hand.  
"Now, I believe we will need some evidence of a thorough spanking?" He purred. Elena nodded jerkily and his hand skated over her short skirt, pushing it up to bunch around her waist. Her knickers were pushed down to settle around her slightly parted ankles. He continued to smooth his free hand over her pert rear as he spoke smoothly.  
"Normally this is the point where you would be ordered not to make a sound, but I think in this case it is best that I allow those outside to hear you making some quite spectacular complaints, don't you?" She nodded again and he continued. "I will continue until I am sure the mark will not fade immediately. I am quite confident that you will handle yourself admirably."  
And with that he began, lifting his hand to fall sharply onto her waiting skin. The sound that echoed around the room was quite delicious, as was her slight whimper. At this point it was no doubt entirely faked. If this woman was prepared to sell out her body for a case such as this, she was doubtless accustomed to a little pain. He continued, not holding back much of his considerable strength until her whimpers came a little more genuine, before escalating into exaggerated moans and sobbing cries for mercy, begging for him to stop. Her skin gradually flushed to a deep red and Loki found he was enjoying himself rather more than could be professionally justified. Fortunately, judging by the glistening he could just about glimpse between her thighs when he sank down to add a few bite marks (entirely unnecessary, but he really couldn't resist, and her surprised yelps were funny), so was she.  
He let fall one last heavy blow, then stepped back, soothing her heated flesh with the natural coolness of his palms.  
"Yes that will do nicely," he decided. "Well done, pretty one."  
She turned back to face him, and they were caught. Their pupils were blown wide, eyes held together by some un-nameable force. Arousal obvious, they stood frozen for the best part of ten seconds before Loki pulled himself back, turning sharply away. (*)


	7. 7 - Bargains

Loki dropped the keys to Elena's room onto Kane's empty desk and headed to the garage, selecting a fast motorbike and roaring away towards New York. He pushed the bike to its very top speed, more anxious than he liked to admit to leave Elena alone at the warehouse for too long. Still, it took him several hours driving through the night to reach the outskirts of the city. Another hour or so was spent hanging around in the area near Queen's jail assuring he had not been followed from the base. He had not, so he parked the bike and cloaked it with magic, then transported himself to an alleyway along 35th and walked until he found a café. He ordered a cup of terrible tea, sat at a table by the window and broke the ring, peering with interest at the small tangle of wires that emerged from the inside. Sipping disdainfully at his tea, he glanced at the clock, then turned his gaze to the street outside.

15 minutes later a short, stocky man sat down in the chair opposite him. He wore a suit similar in style to Loki's, no doubt to give the illusion of an early morning business meeting. Unlike Loki though, he looked uncomfortable in his suit, tugging self-consciously on the cuffs. Field agent then, unused to dressing for an office.

"Sorry I'm late," the man burbled absentmindedly, "got caught by my secretary on the way out and missed the train." He spoke casually, and utterly convincingly, suddenly looking much more comfortable in his suit. A good actor – definitely a field agent.

"Not at all, I know all too well what the underg- excuse me, subway, around here can be like." Loki soothed. "I was quite happy to relax a moment whilst I waited – I so rarely get the opportunity these days, you know."

"Tell me about it," the man chuckled. Through the window Loki saw a dark-windowed car pull up outside.

"I have a car waiting, Mr Wren." He improvised. "Shall we?"

The man didn't blink at Loki's made-up name for him, only followed his gaze and nodded easily.

"Great. So, tell me more about this restaurant we're going to? It sounds fantastic, how long have you had your eye on it?"

They made small talk as though they were a pair of businessmen on the way out to the car, Loki sliding in one side whilst the man walked around to the other. The back of the car was laid out like a limo, with seats on either side of the car facing each other. Loki sat calmly back in his seat and observed the man who had been waiting in the car, 'Mr Wren' seating himself next to him so they both stared across at Loki.

This new man was obviously more accustomed to wearing a suit. Experienced in the field if his utterly blank demeanour was anything to go by, but long since promoted to… perhaps something akin to a line manager?

"Agent Coulson." He introduced himself, reaching a hand across the gap between the seats.

"Jack Frost." Loki responded, taking the hand and shaking it briefly before they both sat back.

"Yes, we've been keeping tabs on you – or rather, trying to – for a few years now. You're very difficult to pin down, Mr Frost."

"Thank you," Loki nodded, taking the comment as a compliment it was not truly intended as.

"Given your slippery nature and your… checkered history, you'll understand why I'm a little concerned that you have contacted us using a transmitter belonging to our agent. Any particular reason for that?" Coulson asked without preamble.

"Of course there is. I have been ordered to kill the man you previously had inside. Apparently someone thinks he might talk. I will need your assistance in fabricating the necessary evidence of that man's gruesome demise."

Coulson nodded. He pulled out a phone and made a quick call, issuing his orders calmly into the handset with the ease of a man who is used to being listened to.

"Is N- Elena OK?" The other agent asked.

"As much as can be. A little roughed up, I am afraid, as we had to create the impression of a most unpleasant – for her – encounter between the two of us."

The man's fists clenched a little, and Loki decided to clarify, in the interest of keeping things civil. "I assure you, it was almost entirely her idea."

"She is successfully embedded, then?" Coulson asked, finished with his phonecall.

"I would say so, yes. I have not heard of any suspicions, and given that I was hired for the express purpose of hunting down any rats, I would be one of the first to know if there were whispers of her."

"Good."

The rest of their journey was conducted in silence, all three men looking carefully away from each other. Loki ran his eyes over the inside of the car and the two agents in it, then turned his gaze to the streets outside, tracking their location as the streets zipped by. Unbeknownst to the two agents, he also stretched out his more magical senses to investigate the workings of the car. It was astoundingly complex, obviously high-end with a few features even Loki could not begin to guess at the purpose of.

For the last 10 minutes of the journey, the windows shuttered so they could not see outside the car, and the driver took a roundabout route in an effort to throw Loki off their exact location. They stepped out of the car in an underground garage belonging to what appeared to be a pretty generic government building. Waiting for them in the office was the man who Loki had warned away from his infiltration. He did not look overly pleased to see him, so naturally Loki could not help but take this as an invitation to annoy him further.

"Ah hello agent, how pleasant to see you again," he began. "I've been ordered to kill you, so tell me, how would you like to die? I thought beheading might be rather fun."

The agent just glared.

"Perhaps difficult to fake without extensive preparation though… unless you have a good facsimile of your own head lying around somewhere, that you don't mind dirtying up with a little blood?"

"Mr Frost, if you would take a seat." Agent Coulson interrupted his game.

"Sitting is a rather impractical position for an assassination, Agent Coulson." Loki responded. "Perhaps a bloodstained item of clothing might be more appropriate?"

"Perhaps, we could simply agree on a story for now?" Coulson insisted. "Plastic garrotting wire seems most appropriate given that you will supposedly have got the weapon past security into a jail cell. I have secured us a replica of an empty cell to shoot evidential photographs in."

"I suppose that would be acceptable." Loki acquiesced. Then he turned back to the agent. "Now, how good are you at playing dead? I do hope better than playing spy, or Miss Ortega and I will be in rather deep peril."

"With respect, Agent Coulson, why are we pandering to this guy?" The agent snapped.

"Doesn't sound particularly respectful, if you ask me." Loki offered, but was ignored.

"He is obviously just toying with us, he could tell them everything as soon as he gets back. He's not the least bit trustworthy."

"Certainly not," Loki agreed cheerfully. "But Agent Coulson appears to be plenty intelligent enough to have realised that long ago, if the several armed agents currently stationed right outside the door to this room are anything to go by."

"I was wondering if you'd noticed that." Coulson nodded. "I am curious, Mr Frost, why you are offering us your aid in this."

"Because I am bored, and this is amusing." Loki replied.

"And?"

"And nothing." Loki insisted, keeping his face smooth. "You have my aid in this because I find it diverting. Do not try to read further into the matter, it will serve no-one well. Least of all Miss Ortega."

"Very well." Coulson's face gave nothing away. The agent Loki had called Mr Wren remained similarly unaffected in his expression, but his hands balled into fists again. Loki wondered absently if the man was aware he had a tell. Meanwhile Polkiss, or whatever his real name was, had made no attempt whatsoever to hide his annoyance, and was glaring hatefully at Loki.

"Please Mr Polkiss," Loki stressed the agent's fake name tauntingly. "I realise your incompetence must be frustrating for you, but your role as a dead man will no doubt be vital to the entire operation."

"Perhaps we had best get on with things." Coulson spoke before the agent could muster an angry response. "Mr Frost, you'll understand if my entourage accompany us to the cell?"

"My dear Agent Coulson, I'd be rather disappointed if they didn't." Loki crooned. "It is _so_ pleasant not to be underestimated."

Agent not-Polkiss huffed and stalked out ahead of them. They arrived at the cell and he was sat grumpily on the bed, waiting. Loki winked at Agent Coulson, and was on him in a flash, plastic garrotte wire appearing from one of his hidden pockets to wrap realistically around the man's throat. Every gun in the room was suddenly raised to focus on him and he laughed pleasantly, holding himself still as the agent thrashed angrily against him.

"I have a style, gentlemen. If we had attempted to simulate this entirely non-violently, with someone else applying the garrotte as was no-doubt your intention, it would be clear to the close observer that it was not my own work. Admittedly my would-be-boss is not the brightest spark, and would likely be fooled by a spot of photoshop, but he may well be in the employ of sharper men."

He released the garrotte and tripped the agent so he fell to the floor.

"How does it look, Agent Coulson? Mr Wren?" He asked cheerfully. "I think I've done a rather good job, myself. Oh do put the guns down, he's obviously not really dead." He prodded not-Polkiss with his toe. "Stop moving, you imbecille."

Coulson did not look impressed. Though he didn't look overly upset either. "It will do. Take your photograph then."

Loki took one, then Coulson took a few to be published in the local newspaper the following day.

Not-Polkiss remained obligingly motionless until Coulson told him to get up. He rose with a furious glare at Loki, rubbing at his throat and throwing the tangled garrotte wire into a corner of the room.

Tutting, Loki went to collect it. "Really, could you not have a little more respect for my belongings?" He asked, coiling the plastic carefully and stowing it away.

"Yes, I'm not overly pleased you decided to bring your own murder weapon, Mr Frost. Doesn't give the best impression, you see." Coulson spoke, deadpan.

"If you expected me to come unarmed, you are a far greater fool than I have yet given you credit for." Loki pointed out.

"Indeed. I assume that was not the only weapon you carry?"

"I plead the fifth." Loki grinned.

"That's a yes." Not-Wren said, eyes scanning Loki for further concealed weapons.

Loki just shrugged eloquently. "I believe we are finished here?"

"Not quite. What can you tell us about the organisation? Obviously this location is not the central one, but Agent Sterling never worked himself up to a senior-enough level to know of the wider operations of the group."

"Of course he didn't, he has no subtlety. There are a great many things I could tell you about this organisation, Agent, but what do you have for me in return?"

"You want a reward for trading in a sex-slave trafficker?" Not-Wren gaped at him, abhorrence in his eyes. "How about just because it's sick what they're doing?"

Loki tsk-ed at the agent. "Obviously not so sick that you wouldn't send one of your own to enjoy their hospitality."

The taunt gained the desired reaction. The agent reddened and started towards him, fists already raised.

"Barton." Barked Agent Coulson, "Stand down."

Barton. Loki smirked. He now had all their names. Although he had no intention to sell the information, he wondered idly how much it would be worth if he were to do so. Probably not a lot without also including the name of the organisation, and of their spy woman.

"I thought that might be your response." Coulson continued, his tone cool. "I wonder if you are aware that you are currently a wanted criminal of no less than 47 states? I can make that disappear in exchange for your co-operation in bringing down this organisation entirely."

"Goodness me, you seem to have quite the position of influence." Loki cooed. "I am well aware that Jack Frost is a wanted man, but I am also aware that the inept federal forces of every one of those states have never even come close to catching me. Really, those arrest warrants are not worth the paper they are written on, given that they are unlikely to ever see the light of day."

"You're very confident in your ability to avoid the law."

"With reason, I assure you."

"So you won't work with us?"

"Is that not what I have done thus far?" Loki raised his hands slightly to indicate the still wheezing Agent Sterling. "What would you call this if not co-operation?" He widened his eyes in a mocking farce of an innocent expression, then let both that and his hands drop at Coulson's failure to react. "This is the most you will have of me, Agent Coulson. I suggest you pray to whatever deity is your wont that I do not decide to give with equal generosity to the other side."

"Very well." Coulson shrugged, his face betraying no disappointment, whatever the truth of the matter may have been. "Can we at least persuade you to return Agent Ortega's jewellery to her?" He reached into the pocket of his non-descript suit and pulled out another transmitter identical to the first.

Loki made a show of considering. Barton was annoying, Sterling utterly ridiculous, but Coulson at least, with his air of unruffled indifference, had won some small measure of respect. As had Elena.

"Very well," he sighed, trying to appear annoyed. "And how shall I contact you, should it be necessary?"

He was hardly even surprised when Coulson pulled out a similarly ugly ring sized roughly for a man's finger. Loki slid it on, shifting his form slightly so the fit was snug.

"You are admirably well-prepared, Agent Coulson. And now? I suppose I should hurry to return your agent her means of escape."

"If you wouldn't mind." Coulson gave him a tight mockery of a smile, which Loki returned in kind. "The car is this way."

They dropped him off outside the same café he had met them in, and Loki walked quickly to his bike and rode away.

They were trying to follow him, he noticed with a smirk. Ineptly, at that. Perhaps they had put not-Polkiss in charge of the effort. He led them through the streets for a good few hours on a game of cat and mouse, before finally growing bored and disappearing altogether, transporting himself and his bike right out of the city.

* * *

Please let me know what you think!


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